


Sky in a Room

by takadainmate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Team Free Will (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-22
Updated: 2011-02-22
Packaged: 2020-12-22 16:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21079637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takadainmate/pseuds/takadainmate
Summary: Sam is sick. Dean and Cas are not helping.Dean/Cas, Sam. Spoilers up to 6x12 or 13-ish. Set at around that time.





	Sky in a Room

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](https://d-hearts-c.livejournal.com/profile)[**d_hearts_c**](https://d-hearts-c.livejournal.com/). My prompt was: _The boys are stuck at Bobby’s when a hunt goes sideways, leaving Dean, Sam and Cas cursed and unable stray more than five feet from each other. Dean and Cas were already at each other’s throats with all the UST before anything happened, but now, Sam is starting to wonder if he ever really got out of hell._
> 
> Thanks to [](https://cienna.livejournal.com/profile)[**cienna**](https://cienna.livejournal.com/) for the beta-ing.

They might have been stuck in Bobby's panic room for days for all Sam could tell.

His head hurt like a bitch and his chest felt heavy, suffocating, his throat raw. Even though Sam could see the daylight outside the room, knew it was a warm, spring morning, he couldn't decide if he was too hot or too cold. He couldn't decide if sleeping on his back or his side was more comfortable because all of him ached. And Dean and Cas were _not helping_.

It was like being trapped with a pair of bitchy housewives, or maybe an old married couple who couldn't stand the sight of each other anymore, and _Jesus_ it was annoying.

At the edges of the room Cas paced like a caged animal, and Sam, far from his most observant, had the distinct impression that Cas did not like being stuck here. He kept looking at the walls warily, like they were going to close on on him any second, and he stared out the open door with a longing that was kind of painful to look at. If Sam didn't know Cas was an angel and probably above such things, he'd say he was claustrophobic. Maybe it reminded him of being human and helpless, or maybe it reminded him of getting dragged back to Heaven, back when Zachariah was still in charge and being a bastard. Sam didn't know what happened to Cas back then, and he didn't think Dean did either, but he got the impression it was nothing good. Sam could sympathise, he really could.

Dean, though, maybe not so much.

It had to be the seventh or eighth time in the past half hour Cas had gone to the door, to stand at the periphery of how far apart they could move away from one another before it really started hurting, when Dean snapped, "Will you fucking _sit down_, Cas. You can't go anywhere. Deal with it."

Slowly, Cas turned to Dean and the look he sent him was not even remotely friendly.

Sam wondered if Cas was going to end up smiting Dean before they could get this damned curse undone.

"I am testing the strength of the enchantment." Cas didn't sound friendly either, but then, he never really had. Not often, anyway, and even less now. But Sam didn't think he'd ever heard this coldness in his voice before.

"Guys," Sam tried, his voice hoarse and pathetic- and he wasn't above using illness to get his _cell mates_, as he was beginning to think of them- to shut the fuck up. "This isn't helping."

"Yeah, well, feather-brain over there can't seem to get it into his head that we're-"

"Leave him alone, Dean," Sam interrupted, because Cas was looking uncomfortable and irritated and distant, too, like he just didn't know how to deal with them anymore. It was one of the million things Sam couldn't understand about Cas; how he'd changed when he'd gone back to being an angel. What was happening in his world now. Sam could get that Cas was frustrated. Christ, Sam was too, and if anyone in the room had a right to be miserable it was him. Being laid up with some kind of flu that felt like it was the plague or something, and stuck with his hovering, pissy brother and a just plain pissy Cas, was not his idea of a good time. They could, Sam decided, at least be civil, because the alternative was getting at each other's throats.

Dean was never one to take the path of least annoyance. "You taking his side now?"

"There are no sides, there's just you being a dick," Sam shot back, and then coughed and couldn't stop because his throat was dry as a bone and Bobby hadn't thought to leave any water. Sometimes, Sam's life sucked. At least it got Cas and Dean to stop arguing, if only long enough for Dean to sit Sam up, rubbing his back like he was five. But whatever, it felt kind of good.

"Can't you do something?" Sam heard Dean ask. "Cure him? It's just flu right?"

"I don't know how," Cas replied, frowning down at his hands as though they might hold the answer.

"Useless," Dean muttered, and Sam would've told his brother to shut up if he hadn't been panting for breath and feeling like he was going to puke.

"I'm not _all powerful_." Cas glared at Dean, letting his hands fall to his sides. "And I _told_ you Sam was in no condition to join us on a hunt."

Dean glared right back. "He was fine yesterday. You don't get to tell me how to take care of my own brother."

"Hey, I'm right here," Sam protested, and was completely ignored.

"You said yourself-" Cas began, but Dean rolled right over him.

"And if it wasn't for your dick brothers we wouldn't be here-"

"If you had _listened_ to me. You never _listen_-"

"You only come around when you want something, and then you can't even help Sam get over a freaking cold."

"When _I_ want something? You call me to save you, to save your brother, and you forget I have a war to fight."

If he hadn't had Sam sprawled over his legs Sam was sure Dean would be up on his feet, right up in Cas's face.

Sam had it wrong: Dean and Cas weren't like housewives, they were like twelve year olds pulling at each other's pigtails. And at the thought of Cas and Dean with pigtails Sam couldn't stop himself laughing. It was entirely possible he was a little delirious.

When he could breathe again, Dean was frowning down at Sam like he was convinced of it, and even Cas had moved further into the room, hovering awkwardly, very obviously not having a clue what to do.

"God." Sam swallowed, swallowed again and grimaced at the way his throat felt scraped dry. "I'd kill for some water."

Dean had put his hand on Sam's forehead and the cool feeling of his palm was a relief. It had been years since Sam had felt this shitty, and he kind of wished he'd never gone on the hunt- some freaky chimaeras or something- and then he wouldn't be stuck to Dean and Cas like a human yo-yo.

"Perhaps," Sam heard Cas say, "I could try to go to the kitchen."

He sounded dubious, and yeah, no, they'd already tried the separating thing and it had not gone well. There'd been a whole lot of pain involved.

"Cas, no." Dean was grimacing like he was remembering exactly what it had felt like too. He shifted himself out from underneath Sam's head, laying his brother down gently, and stood up, taking a step towards Cas. "Not a good idea."

"It would only be for a second."

Before either of them could say _really, no_, Cas was gone.

"Fucking angel son of a-" Dean swore, his fingers curling into fists, but he was cut off by Cas's return, water bottle in hand. Both his eyes were tightly closed, he swayed, then overbalanced, tipping over and falling onto his knees.

The sound of his knees hitting the hard concrete was loud; painful.

Dean was at Cas's side in a second, his arm through Cas's and pulling him up to standing, bitching, "You tell me I don't listen. You freaking idiot. Did your tiny angel brain forget how much it hurt last time we got more than ten feet from each other?"

Sam could see that Cas's nose was bleeding, and his face looked kind of grey.

"I didn't forget," Cas said, dazed.

Maybe it was the tone, or the honesty of it, but it shut Dean up, and for a moment he just stood and looked at Cas, frowning.

Sam had seen that face before; when Dean didn't get something and was trying to work it out. In Sam's opinion Cas was something that none of them were ever going to get. It was interesting that Dean was trying to though, because Sam knew from long experience that in general Dean didn't try to get to know very many people at all. That had always been Sam's thing, and here was Dean bristling and fussing over Cas, telling him, "Don't do that again or I will find a way to cut off your wings."

He pushed Cas over to Sam's bed- the only bed, the only furniture at all- in the room and made him sit down beside Sam's feet. The old mattress dipped, the bed springs creaking at the strain and Dean made Cas lean forward, pinching his nose.

"You okay?" Sam asked, because there was no way Dean had the emotional capacity to, and it was maybe a little funny how Cas turned to look at Sam and nodded, still holding his nose. There was blood on the lapels of his coat and on his fingers, and he still looked shitty, but he was with them again now, so it would be cool. "I would've lived without water," Sam said. "I'm sure Bobby'll be back soon."

In honesty, Sam wasn't sure of it, because some of the things Cas had asked for- the things he said he needed to break the curse- were ridiculously obscure. For some of them Sam had no clue where Bobby was even going to start. Cas's doubtful look told him he didn't believe it either.

"Well," Dean said, unscrewing the bottle before passing it to Sam. The plastic was cold, wet with condensation. "We've got it now so you might as well drink some."

Sam had to admit, it felt damn good going down his throat.

"Thanks, Cas," he said, and it was awesome to be able to talk again without sounding like a seventy year old chain smoker.

Cas nodded. "You're welcome, Sam." He tried to sit up straight, but Dean pushed him back down, hand staying on Cas's back.

"You can sit up when I say so," Dean ordered in his most terrifyingly mothering voice. From the surprised look on Cas's face, Sam took it that he'd never had the pleasure of experiencing this side of Dean before. Sam had; he remembered it all the way from being a tiny kid with grazed knees to being a hunter with a busted leg and a gash in his side the length of his arm.

"It's nothing," Cas argued. "An annoyance."

Dean sat down beside Cas and the bed creaked and groaned again, and Sam had to shift over to stop himself rolling towards Dean and Cas. "In anyone else, maybe, but with you I don't know," Dean said. "Aren't you supposed to be, I dunno, impervious to crap like this now."

"I've never been impervious," Cas corrected, but he did seem to be irritated by the blood on his fingers, glaring at it when he pulled his hand away from his nose to speak. "The curse has weakened me." He looked up, then around him as though he'd only just realised where he was, or maybe, like he was looking for some escape. "I can't stay here," Cas said, and he actually sounded freaked out suddenly.

"You can't leave either," Dean pointed out, and moved his hand from Cas's back to lay heavily on Cas's shoulder, not trusting Cas to stay put even though he had to know that wasn't going to stop Cas going anywhere.

"Dean, if they find me here-"

"They won't."

"You and-" Cas tried, and Sam had really hoped they were over the arguing thing, so he offered, "This is probably the safest place on Earth you could be, Cas. Bobby's been working on this room for years."

Cas shook his head. "And my brothers know of my connection to you."

"But not to Bobby."

Dean cut in, "What do you want us to do? Sam's sick, you're still bleeding out your nose, if you hadn't noticed. You got somewhere else we can hide?"

"Not 'we'," Cas replied.

Oh yeah, Sam could see the way Dean's shoulders tensed and the way he leaned back, his hand pulling away from Cas's shoulder. It wasn't hard to tell that Dean was _pissed_.

"We had this conversation already. We're not having it again."

Dean and Cas were staring at one another. Sam realised it had been a long time since he'd seen them do that. It had always been kind of creepy, the way they'd both just stand there, eyes locked together, silent and still like the rest of the world didn't exist. Sam had always wondered if Dean even realised he was doing it, and if he had noticed when they'd stopped. Sam didn't know when Dean and Cas had gone from epic staring partners to barely looking at each other anymore, but then, the fuck did he know. He had a gaping hole where a year of his life was supposed to be. If the time since he'd woken up himself again was anything to go by, then pretty much anything could've happened.

Sitting and staring, Cas looked like he wanted to argue. With Cas, emotion was always written in the way he frowned at you.

It was weird, Sam thought, how Cas was so different and still managed to be exactly the same as them with that self-sacrificing Winchester habit, determined to not be responsible for anything bad happening to anybody else. Because that was what it boiled down to; not wanting the responsibility. Cas had said, from the very beginning, he was just a soldier, he followed orders, and that was probably all he knew how to do. It really had to suck for him, now that he was some kind of leader.

Sam didn't believe there was anyone more stubborn than Dean though, not even an ultra-powerful angel of the Lord. Dean would have his way, and even if he might complain about him, and argue with him, and call him useless and an asshole, Sam knew better than anyone this was Dean's way of showing he gave a shit.

Maybe that was why Cas didn't argue, or maybe, like he'd said once before, he didn't really _want_ to go.

"Please don't leave me alone with Dean," Sam begged. "He won't stop bitching about you for hours- _days_\- and I'm really not feeling up to it." He coughed for emphasis and Dean shoved at his arm, a lot more gently than usual and Sam wondered how crappy he had to look to incite that level of thoughtfulness from his brother.

"I don't _bitch_."

"You really do," Sam laughed. Even though it scraped his throat, it still felt good to laugh. "You always say, 'Oh, Sam'," and Sam affected a high-pitched whiny voice, "'Cas didn't answer when I called. Why doesn't he answer me, Sam? I call him all the time. I just want to know he's okay.'" which wasn't actually what Dean had said, but it was the meaning Sam had taken. "You sound like a jilted ex, man."

The look Dean gave Sam was as much _hurt_ as annoyed, and wasn't that just interesting.

"I haven't... 'jilted' Dean," Cas supplied unhelpfully.

Dean buried his face in his hands, shaking his head. "What did I do to be stuck with you two?"

Seeing Cas open his mouth to speak Sam interrupted, "Don't answer that, Cas."

Somehow, they'd managed to find something like a companionable mood, and after Cas and Dean's almost constant sniping Sam didn't want to ruin it. Even though Cas hadn't said he was staying he certainly didn't look like he planned on going anywhere. He was watching Dean, less twitchy than he'd been earlier. Maybe they'd managed to take his mind off the confinement, or else watching Dean made him happy.

Which was both a disturbing and stalkery idea, but pretty much unsurprising when it came to Cas and his brother. Sam wondered if he should be worried that this was normal for him. For them. Not this situation, because Sam didn't think there had ever been a time before when they'd all sat around and _talked_, but the way Cas and Dean bitched and stared, yeah, that was familiar.

Talking was probably too strong a word, because there was a long silence then, none of them wanting to break the peace. Sam took the opportunity to wonder if he was delusional, if this flu was making him see things, because he would've sworn Dean shifted closer to Cas, and that Cas leaned in towards him too. Sam could feel every movement of the crappy bed, and in the quiet he could hear every sound it made in protest.

Finally, Cas offered, "I would stay here if I could."

Wearily, Dean said, "I know, dude."

"I'm sorry for-" Cas began, but Dean waved a hand at him, interrupting,

"You got nothing to be sorry for. We're both assholes, I guess."

"Glad you finally realised it." Sam smiled up at Dean when his brother turned and glared at him. "You deserve each other," he teased. "I know you'll be very happy together." The weird thing, though, was that there was some truth to it. Sam had never known Dean to get close to anyone before, to let anyone get to him the way Cas did, and Sam was certain the same was true for Cas.

"Fuck off," was Dean's reply to that but, oh yeah, Dean was avoiding Cas's eyes now and this was just _precious_. Endless possibilities for making fun of Dean crammed into Sam's mind and he thought he actually felt better at the prospect.

Predictably, Dean tried to change the subject.

"Jesus, this is boring," he complained, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees, looking longingly at the panic room door.

It had to be killing him, Sam thought, that he couldn't just run away from the conversation like he usually would.

Another long silence, and Sam had to agree that looking at the panic room walls was getting old fast. Sam might have felt a little better since drinking the water, but his chest still felt weighted down, blocked, and his head heavy and aching. There was no way he was going to be able to get any sleep, even though it was the thing he most wanted, his eyes tired and sore. The tension was still there, between Dean and Cas, sitting stiffly next to each other on the edge of the bed. There were too many things that had happened between them, and that had never been resolved, and if Sam knew Dean- and Cas- at all, never would be.

"We could play a game," Sam suggested, because the discomfort- having no idea how to talk to each other outside of some crisis or some fight- could only get worse and Sam would take whatever distraction he could get. Any distraction that didn't involve Cas and Dean bitching at each other anyway.

"A game, Sam?" Dean looked at his brother in what looked a lot like disgust. "Seriously?"

"You got any better ideas?"

Dean's silence was answer enough. Cas offered no opinion, but tried to wipe the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, smearing it more than anything and making Dean tut and use the sleeve of his shirt to mop up the mess.

"You can't mojo this away?"

Cas shook his head, and Sam tried to ignore the way Dean was holding Cas's chin lightly, tipping his head back, wiping the blood away with practised efficiency.

"I spy-" Sam began, because it was all he could think of it. Dean twisted around to look at Sam.

"Really?"

Sam ignored him. "Something beginning with 'a'."

Dean scoffed, turning back to Cas. "Angel. Man, at least make it challenging."

"Lots of other things begin with 'a'," Sam argued. Now, Dean was moving Cas's face from side to side, checking he hadn't missed any blood.

"They do," Cas agreed.

"The answer's still angel." From this angle, Sam could still see the way Dean glared at Cas like he'd been betrayed. He let go of Cas, and all Sam could think was, yeah, his brother really was that petty.

Sam coughed. "You just got lucky."

"What are the rules to this game?" Cas asked, and Dean choked a laugh.

"What, you couldn't work it out?"

"That's all there is to it?" Cas looked to Sam with a worried expression, and Sam had to admit it was a lame choice of game.

"I'm sick, okay?" Sam said defensively. Then to Dean, "It's your turn."

With a put-upon sigh, Dean offered, "I spy something boring beginning with 'b'."

"Bed," Cas replied immediately, and to Dean's nod he added, "This is very easy.

"There's not exactly a whole lot in this room. Make it harder," Dean said. "Your turn."

Cas nodded, looked thoughtful, then said, "Something beginning with 'e'."

"Ear?" Sam guessed and Cas shook his head.

Dean looked around the limited boundaries of the panic room. "E... entrance?"

"No."

For a long time they sat in silence, and Sam couldn't think of a single other thing. He was blaming it on being sick. Since they were kids he had _always_ won this game.

Eventually, Dean said, "It's going to be something stupid, isn't it?"

"It's not," but then Cas paused and Sam thought, yeah, it really was. "Though, maybe you can't see it."

"Awesome." Dean rolled his eyes. "If we can't see it then our eyes can't freaking spy it, can they?"

"This is true."

"What was it?" Sam asked curiously.

"Ether."

"Ether," Dean repeated, throwing his hands up. "Humans can't see that, Cas."

"I can."

"That's great for you. Is it roomier than Bobby's basement? Anything good we're missing out on?"

Cas lifted a shoulder in what Sam guessed was supposed to be a shrug. "No."

Dean snorted, turned to Sam. "Got any other great ideas? Maybe something Cas can understand this time."

"I understood the rules," Cas said defensively. "It's not my fault you have human eyes."

Which was just about the most ridiculous argument Sam had ever heard, and Sam laughed so hard it _hurt_, and this time Sam couldn't stop coughing, and the coughing turned into ugly wheezing, his stomach turned so much he thought he was going to be sick all over Dean. Curling onto his side didn't help much, so Sam twisted around, found Dean there- somehow on the other side of the bed- telling him to, "Breathe, dude," and swearing, "Shit," and saying, "Cas, can you call Bobby?"

Vaguely, Sam heard Cas's reply, but didn't understand it. He wanted to tell them he was fine, he just needed a second, but he couldn't get the words out. Around him, there was movement, hands on him pulling and pushing and it was kind of annoying, but then there was a feeling like cool air washing through him and the aching, the pain was mostly gone.

Sam lay there for a long time just breathing and relishing the quiet. Somehow, he knew he was still sick, not cured, could feel the soreness of his throat and lungs and the nausea, but it was at one remove, like he'd taken a tonne of pills.

Slowly, he became aware of lying on his back, Dean propping him up, Cas's hands on his chest, warm fingers splayed over his shirt.

Dean was whispering, "You couldn't do that before? You said you couldn't heal him."

"This will only temporarily hold back his pain. It's not a cure," Cas said, his voice low and quiet but sharp.

Whatever it was, Sam appreciated it. His limbs felt pleasantly tingly, maybe a little light-headed, but way better than he'd felt for the last however-many-hours they'd been stuck in the panic room.

"This is pretty cool," he told Cas, opening his eyes and seeing that Dean, sitting beside his head, was giving him a frowny, worried- or maybe angry, Sam couldn't tell the difference- face. Cas was leaning over him, and he nodded and sort-of smiled.

"You look stoned," Dean said, peering into Sam's eyes. "Cas that good is he?"

Sam was glad he had enough lucidity to throw back, "Better than when he got his hands inside me," and it was awesome in many magical ways to watch the way Dean's face went from shocked to disgusted to pissed and back again.

"Dude, no. You realise how wrong that is?" Sam didn't miss the way Dean glanced at Cas. "I'm gonna let it go, because you're hyped up on angel-juice... shit. See what you've done? Fuck. Why did I say that?"

The appalled look on Dean's face made Sam laugh, and he was kind of disturbed to hear how much like a giggle it sounded.

Cas started to say, "There is no-"

"Whatever the rest of that sentence is," Dean cut him off, "I don't wanna hear it."

This was, Sam reflected, a much better way to spend the afternoon. Or night. Or morning. Or whatever it was. "You should try this, Dean," Sam said. "It's awesome."

Dean patted him on the shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. I think you've had enough."

Cas shook his head. "A while longer, Dean," and Sam was stupidly relieved.

Above him, Dean pulled one of the bitchiest faces Sam had ever seen. "Jesus. Should I leave you two alone?"  
  
Predictably, Cas asked, "Why would you?"

It had to be the happy-vibes, Sam decided, because otherwise he would never have answered, not with Dean acting like someone had just stolen his favourite shirt. Sam wondered, really wondered, how Cas put up with Dean. Them both really. Maybe that was why they fought all the time.

"Dean is implying," Sam explained, "that we want to sleep together."

Cas blinked, and Dean didn't say anything.

"Sam considers it awkward to hug me," Cas said. "I doubt he wishes to have sexual relations with me."

It was a lot like, Sam considered, a hilarious messed-up nightmare that he'd stepped into. Somehow, _somehow_, he managed to keep silent, watching Dean's look of confusion instead.

"Hug you?" Dean looked at Cas, at Sam, then back again. "What the hell?"

"I was glad to see Sam returned to himself."

And that, that was actually one of the nicest things Cas had ever said to Sam, and he was feeling magnanimous. And possibly high. "Dude," Sam told Cas. "I was glad you were alive too."

"Alright, alright." This time, Dean actually pulled Cas's hands from Sam's chest, and Cas let him. There was a coldness spreading across Sam's chest where Cas's hands had been, but Sam still felt pretty good. It was like he was lying out in the sun, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, and he could almost forget he had the flu and was trapped in a tiny room with Cas and Dean and zero topics of productive conversation.

"Enough with the love-fest," Dean was saying.

"You're just jealous," Sam teased, because Dean was just so _easy_ to get worked up. It was like a sport; the more you practised, the better you became.

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed, and it might've been convincing if Dean had sounded half as dismissive as he was trying for.

Cas, honest to a fault, said, "You have no reason to be jealous, Dean. I prefer you to Sam."

Sam would have been offended if it wasn't so damn funny. Particularly the way Dean got uncomfortable, shifting where he sat, flushed in the face. If Sam had mentioned that he was _blushing_, he was certain Dean would say it was because he was _angry_, not because he was embarrassed or- God forbid- pleased.

"Will you stop with that?"

"It's true," Cas retorted.

"I don't care. You can't just come out and say shit like that."

"Why not?" Cas asked. "Is this another thing we're not supposed to talk about?"

"Because," Dean said pointedly, "You end up saying things you're not supposed to." To Sam, it looked like Cas was gearing up for an argument, and it was just too fucking much.

"Guys. Seriously. Stop it. You sound like an old, _really annoying_, married couple. You know, the kind that kills each other in a fit of rage and then goes on to haunt each other for eternity."

The strange numbness, the warmth of Cas's mojo was fading now, and Sam was fully prepared to blame them both.

"We're not married," Cas pointed out.

Under his breath, Sam heard Dean murmur, "Thank fuck for that," and it was loud enough that there was no way Cas could've missed it. Cas just stared back at Dean with a blank look, impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"I think you protest too much," Sam said to Dean. Sam still couldn't seem to stop himself talking. Saying stupid things. It was kind of cool.

Turning to Cas, Sam said, "He's just repressed. Hey, is this angel stuff like truth serum or something?"

Cas looked down at him with a thoughtful frown. "No, it isn't."

"Oh." Maybe it was just an excuse then, Sam thought, because _someone_ needed to say it. And whatever, anyway, Sam wanted Dean to be happy. That's all he'd ever wanted for his brother. He didn't need any help in admitting that. "You guys," Sam went on, "You guys like each other, and I like you guys, but man, sometimes I think you should go see a relationship counsellor."

Dean's mouth twisted into a grimace. "We're not in a relationship, Sam. What's gotten into you?"

"Cas-juice," Sam responded without thinking, and then grinned at his own joke, and at Dean's look of mortified horror.

"Jesus fuck." Dean shot Cas an incredulous look. "The hell did you do to him?"

"No, no, it's cool." Sam waved his hand between Cas and Dean, trying to get their attention, sobering and wondering if he could get away with saying this. He could always blame it on being sick. Again. "It was a bad joke. But you really are, Dean. It's like, all that staring and those longing looks-"

"There are no longing _looks_-"

"-and all the arguing and wanting to help each other out. And you let Cas get away with stuff no one else can-"

"Because he doesn't _know_ shit-"

"But mostly you trust Cas, and talk to Cas. Sort of. Even if you don't realise it you two are best friends. And it's cool, Dean, because Cas likes you too."

In the silence that followed Sam wondered if he'd pushed Dean too far, or even why, suddenly, he felt that Cas and Dean needed to _get_ this. Sam wanted them to stop the arguing, and to put behind them the weirdness that he'd felt between them all since he'd been back. More weirdness, anyway, because Sam knew perfectly well that even before not even the craziest of crazies would call what they all had even vaguely _normal_. And this, here, was maybe the only chance they were going to get to hang out together. None of them knew how long it would be before there wasn't some war hanging over them, or something trying to kill them, or impending doom breathing down their necks. If there would _ever_ be a time like that.

It was depressing as hell, but Sam thought, fuck it all; at least they had each other. He guessed that was the point he was trying to make. And, you know, that Sam didn't mind if his brother kind of liked an angel who was as inept at this shit as they were.

There was a long silence, Cas watching Dean and Dean picking at the edge of the pillow under Sam's head. Dean asked, "What do you want from me, Sam?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed. Maybe he could get Cas to understand. Maybe he could find a better way to explain. But right now he was tired, and slow, and thirsty. "More water?"

"Chicken," Dean scoffed, but smiled as he unscrewed the bottle and handed it to Sam.

The water was half-way to warm now, but Sam drank it gratefully.

"In Heaven," Cas said, watching the two of them, "It is rare that I speak to anyone about anything other than war."

If it was because he could read minds, or if he'd come to know them too well, Cas at least seemed to know what they all weren't saying. "Even if I shouldn't be here, I'm glad I am."

"You should be here." Dean's response was instant and fierce, and Sam didn't think he'd meant to say it, because he added, "You'd be glad even if Sam puked on you?"

It had been a while since Sam had seen Cas's confused face, but there it was. Cas didn't sound so sure either when he answered, "No."

"I won't puke on you," Sam assured him. "I'll make sure to lean Dean's way."

"Dude!" Dean protested, and Sam shrugged.

"What? You should be used to it."

"Used to-" Dean cut himself off, gritted his teeth and said, "Go the fuck to sleep or something. You call _us_ annoying."

It didn't sound like such a bad idea either. He could sleep, Sam thought, now he didn't feel like death anymore. He could sleep and then wake up and maybe everything would be magically better. Sam hadn't realised how exhausted he was, and turning his head to look out of the panic room door he could see long, creepy evening shadows stretching outwards from the basement stairs. It had to be evening by now. Bobby had been gone for hours. He wasn't hungry at all.

He'd spent too much of his life down here.

"Are you two capable of not fighting while I sleep?" Sam asked, because he really didn't believe they could, no matter how many sort-of nice things they'd said to each other.

"We promise," Cas replied. "I know a spell that can silence your brother."

For a long moment both Dean and Sam stared at Cas, not sure if he was serious or not.

"I believe you call that a joke," Cas told them dryly.

"A for effort," Dean said, nodding and grinning at Cas and giving him a thumbs up.

"Effort does not begin-"

"Expression, Cas."

Sam asked, "You sure you don't know that spell?"

It made Sam smile, to see Cas actually huff something that sounded like a laugh. Sam was sure he'd never heard it before.

"I can help you sleep instead," Cas offered, reaching out his hand in offering, and Sam thought, why not? He was tired and sickness was creeping back across his skin, heaviness weighing down his head, and he trusted Cas. He trusted Cas with his life, and with Dean's, and maybe that was even more significant. So Sam nodded.

"Don't get up to anything while I'm asleep," he warned, pointing at Cas and Dean, and getting a sour look from Dean in return.

From Cas, the solemn promise, "We will not do anything contumacious," but he was looking at Dean, and Dean was looking right back with a half-smile on his face and Sam was not sure he believed him.

Watching the sleeve of Cas's coat fill his vision, Sam thought that maybe, just this once, something could go right for them- for Dean- and with the lightest of warm touches Sam was asleep.

**.End.**


End file.
